CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS [BRIDGERTON]

fourteen.

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𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧: 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭
 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫.

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Dearest sister,

It comes with great joy for me to know that you and Alice have reconciled. There is truly no greater love than a sister's. Since Alice has married a man with a title, I see no need for you to continue being a governess as you are financing no one at this moment. I will not judge you or deem you any different if you choose to return to Bloomfield to be with our mama.

It seems that my heart is full of joy as I write about our mama. Has she written to you about how our papa asked for her forgiveness? Our butler has informed me that our mama and papa have reconciled. Do find it in your heart – 

Augusta huffed in annoyance, crumpling the letter.

She need not work anymore to finance her sister's education. She may very well return to the comfort of her home – to her family that has seemingly become whole again. Augusta hadn't notice that she was crying until teardrops have wetted the remaining pile of letters.

Why on Earth was she crying?

Deep in her heart, she knew she need not cast such a question to the universe. Augusta knew why she was crying.

Her mother was a soft spirit in a cruel world. Day by day, Augusta saw the look of devotion in her mother's eyes as she looked at her father from the dining table or during the parties they held in their estate. Her mother's character resembled a dandelion – so delicate and so pure. 

Her father – on the father hand – was the strong summer wind. He was a good husband and an even better father to her and her younger siblings. More often than not, he seemed to always blow past a dandelion until it no longer resembled its pure beauty. 

Hence, the wreckage of what she called her own mother on the day her father abandoned his family.

Sifting through the pile of letters, Augusta ran her fingers over the letter that held the stiff yet familiar handwriting. For my wild jewel. Fury well in her soul, Augusta stomped towards the fireplace and held her father's letter over the flame.

Forgiveness. 

Reconciliation. 

Papa.

These were not words to be said in front of her – for she has found them futile.   

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The summer sun was still rising yet the viscount had already managed to give her a headache. Augusta was filing Gregory and Hyacinth's school papers when Anthony pestered her with questions regarding her opera singer friend. The governess paid no mind as the viscount worriedly paced in front of her, blurting out every question that came to his troubled mind.